Page 50 of Claimed By the Biker Brothers

“You can say that again,” I reply with a deadly grin. “Does he look familiar to you, Knox? ’Cause I sure as hell can’t remember him pledging for the Rogue Riders.”

Terry jumps from his bed and puts his back against the wall. The fear I see in his brown eyes is genuine. I can almost smell it on him. “I didn’t mean for things to get this far, I swear,” he mutters. “I swear to God.”

“It’s a little too late for that ’cause now you’ve got some explaining to do,” Knox says.

Terry thinks about it for a hot second, and I foolishly hope he’s going to choose the easy way out. Instead, he nods at his cell door. “Sorry, fellas. You can’t get to me in here. And my lawyer advised me to keep my mouth shut until he can work out a deal.”

“That’s a shame,” I say, taking out Bill’s access card. Terry looks shocked. Knox is surprised too.

“Oh, Bill’s gonna be mad,” Knox replies.

I shift my focus back to Terry. “So here’s where we stand, Terry, I can either come in there and beat the living shit out of you until you give me the information I need—”

“You can’t do that, there’s cameras all over the place. They’re gonna raise the alarm!”

“By the time they get here, you’ll be reduced to pissing and shitting in a bag,” I hiss. “Nobody fucks with the Rogue Riders and gets away with it. But hear me out. Option B is a lot more palatable. You talk, freely, sincerely… and I never set foot inside your cell. Scout’s honor.”

He thinks about it for another moment.

“Clock’s ticking, Terry,” Knox presses him.

I place the card against the reader. The light switches from red to green. The ensuing click has Terry practically soiling his orange jumpsuit.

“Alright, alright! I’ll tell you everything you need to know, I swear!” he cries out. “Just… just stay out there. I know what you fuckers are capable of.”

“See?” I tell Knox. “And that’s why I insist on turning every drug dealer we find in and around Redwood inside out. The word spreads, and what do we get?”

“Efficient marketing, yeah.”

“So, Terry, talk to me,” I say.

Terry takes a deep, shuddering breath. “It was a two-man job. My buddy and me, we’re both outside hires, independent contractors. The guy who brought us, he wanted one of us to wear a disguise.”

“Who’s the guy?” I ask.

“I don’t know. But he’s well-connected. And he had money to throw around for this gig. He paid double the usual fee,” Terry replies. “I wanted more details, but everything was done remotely. Texts from burner phones, messages on Reddit boards, that kind of stuff. I never saw him and neither did my buddy. But he insisted we wear Rider attire for the gig.”

“Where’d you get the vest?” Knox replies.

“We obviously tried making one on our own. We sent the guy photos, but he said he could tell it’s a fake,” Terry replies. “So I asked around. I know some people in the area. Do you know Harlan?”

“Harlan,” I mutter, quickly going over the names in the back of my head. “Is he a Hughes fella?”

Terry nods. “Yeah. He still works for them. He got me the vest. Said it was an original. I showed the photos to our boss, and he texted back and confirmed its authenticity.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Knox growls. “This sounds like a fucking spy thriller, Terry. How’d you do business with a guy whose name you don’t even know?”

“The only name I knew was Benjamin Franklin. And my account was full of him to the point where I didn’t need to ask the boss for any additional information,” Terry scoffs. “Come on, man, in this economy?”

I roll my eyes. “What happened next?”

“Nothing. We went ahead with the job but it turns out the DEA was watching or something. I’m not sure when or where we picked up the tail. All I know is I tried to get away and they tased me.”

“Where did Harlan get the vest?” Knox asks.

“I don’t know; he wouldn’t say.”

I pull Knox aside. “As far as I remember, we burned Calvin’s patches the day we kicked him out.”

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